


A Brave New World

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, S3B Finale Spoilers, SEYCHELLES - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was strange, to heal."</p><p>As the sun rises over Seychelles, Fitz and Simmons contemplate their place, and Daisy's, in the changing tides of their lives. Post 3x22. Hurt/comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brave New World

_I do believe in the light  
Lift your hands toward the sun_

__\- Thirty Seconds to Mars

-

Fitz woke up to the tingling of a gentle breeze against his skin. It was an unexpectedly soft awakening, given what had been spinning around his head moments earlier. Already – thankfully – it was starting to fade, but he could remember darkness and panic, running…and Daisy. 

He took a deep breath, trying to draw his attention away from the dream, to the way his heart was beating steadily (the running wasn’t real) and the walls were not raw brick, concrete and steel, but painted in light colours, and broken up by large window panes, opening out on to an expanse of beach. They were far away from the base. ( _They._ Jemma lay nearby, having rolled over and taken half the blankets with her. Not to worry; it was warm, and even if it wasn’t, he’d let her have them.)

Too grounded now to drift back away, Fitz slipped out of bed. He shrugged on a shirt, out of habit more than anything, and padded up to the window. The sun had just started to rise, sending divinely inspired rays across the sky as it gently kissed the world awake. 

Fitz leaned against the wall that framed the enormous window, and sighed. There was beauty in the peace of it, but worry too. Perhaps it was the last whispers of his dream bleeding through into the day, but the expansive horizon reminded him of just how far Daisy could run. Of the sheer millions – billions? – of places she could be, and how adept she must have been, right from her early days, at staying on the run. And of course, how very lonely she must be: running from the only people in the world who she could call her friends, never stopping, never daring to try to create another life for herself for fear of losing it like she had all her others. Perhaps, never able to enjoy a sunrise like this again, cursed to look up at the sky and only ever see what it had taken from her.

Watching the waves lap at the shore, Fitz felt his breathing settle. It was strange. Not so long ago, any thought of the ocean made him feel helpless – lost and suffocated at once, trapped inside his own body and strangled silent while in his mind he screamed into the void with words he had not, for a long time, been able to find. Now, looking at it, the fear and dizziness were secondary: hollow images over the much more vivid memory of bright, moving colours. Fish, like jewels in the crystal-clear water, and Jemma, in rich hibiscus-coloured bikinis, laughing as she felt one of them pass by her, and it darted away before she could take a picture. Her laughter was finally starting to drown out the god-awful blood-curdling scream that had made its home in his eardrums that day, and he found that now, he could recall the pleasant sound much more easily.

It was strange, to heal.

“Fitz?”

Simmons rolled onto her back, looking for him with bleary eyes. He wasn’t in bed – nor in the kitchen – but standing by the window, gazing pensively out at the sunrise. Letting the blankets fall off her shoulders, she stood and quietly approached. 

She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her, at first. She took the time to admire the shape of his back, arm and shoulder; emphasised as he crossed his arms when he leaned like this. She studied the way his shirt hung loose – open. He’d felt no need to cover himself, not only against the weather, which was so much warmer here, but also, not from gaze of strangers, or from her admittedly hungry eyes, or from himself. His quiet confidence was majestic in the slowly growing light from the rising sun.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice:

“You’re up early.”

“’M okay,” he assured her. “Just thinking.”

“About how we get to be happy and together on a beach and Daisy’s running around alone out there somewhere?” 

He smiled grimly at her accuracy, which served as an answer. Simmons sighed and leaned against him until he uncrossed his arms and wrapped them around her instead.

“I think about that sometimes too,” she admitted. “A lot, actually. I almost cancelled. But you know, I think Daisy needs this time to herself. Not people pressuring her and expecting her to be something she’s not anymore, you know?” 

“Like I did?”

“Yeah.” She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “A bit like that. Except without the lying part. She knows we’re here for her when…if…she wants to come back. In the mean time, she can take care of herself, you know that.”

“Mm.” Fitz shuffled on his feet uncertainly. The remnants of his dream (darkness – panic – running) made his heart flutter again. “Only if she wants to.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’ve…been there, that’s all,” he explained hesitantly, picking at his sleeve. “Feeling like everything’s changing and it’s all against you, feeling like you bring everybody else down. Feeling like…like nobody understands. Like everybody pretends but nobody _really_ cares. I know how it can…get to a person, I guess.” 

Simmons frowned as the implications of his words settled over her.

“Fitz.” It wasn’t as steady as she’d hoped it would be. “I really don’t think she’s in that sort of a place. I wouldn’t have let her go otherwise.”

“Maybe,” Fitz conceded, “but it doesn’t mean she’ll be taking the best care of herself.” 

“Yes she will. She has a promise to keep.” 

Simmons found one of his hands and loosened it from its hold, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been there,” she replied. “That’s all.”

They stood for a while longer, both of them staring out at the sea. It was strange, to heal, but here they were together, slowly moving forward to whatever new peace – and new challenges – awaited them. Unspoken contentment settled over them as they realised that their standing here was, in itself, proof toward the notion that one day, Daisy would indeed be able to see the beauty of the stars again, without watching the radar go dark and hearing the static that marked the end. One day, hopefully not too long in the future, the sound of popping corn would make her smile, and the sight of his name on the Wall would make her feel proud, and loved. Not cursed.

When that day came – or earlier, they hoped - Daisy would reach out to them. In the meantime, there was no reason why they should continue to deny themselves happiness, even if they told themselves so sometimes. There was no reason why, as the beach now stretched out before and around them in full golden splendour, they could not take a cup of tea and breakfast onto the veranda and toast to the rising of the sun.

So they did.


End file.
